


Red

by lalunaticscribe



Series: A Land Within the Four Seas [1]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ancient China, Based on Chinese mythology, Chinese Mythology - Freeform, Court Politics, Deadly Decadent Courts, Multi, Mystery, Other, Politics and Magic, Tailoring, Textiles - Freeform, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-12 23:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14738054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalunaticscribe/pseuds/lalunaticscribe
Summary: When it came time to ascend, Hong Yuexia disrobed, and the Clothes of Heaven were hung upon a bamboo frame upon an altar – a cenotaph upon the surface of the mortal world. With the transcendental changes of the world, the symbolic tomb of Hong Yuexia disappeared within the blue seas turned into mulberry fields...It was the eighteenth year of the Changgeng era, and the current Emperor had three sons and their maternal clans tussling for the throne. Fate’s current laughingstock could thus only be the one who was being sought after to be bribed or to be killed– the Royal Tailor, Yan Bi Yan Caixia.His life now depends upon re-creating the lost miracle of his family's sect, the fitting Dragon Robe-- the Seamless Clothes of Heaven.





	1. 序 | Premise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMadCatQueen69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadCatQueen69/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Under the Moon | 月下](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13159407) by [lalunaticscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalunaticscribe/pseuds/lalunaticscribe). 



> Rewriting based on the groundwork as laid down in [Under the Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13159407/chapters/30096681). Please read this instead.

#  序 | Premise

All stories, in a sense, begin with the death of Pangu and the creation of the world from his body. Going back that far, however, is meaningless.

The real start of this story is the marriage of Fuxi and Nüwa. The first people came together, and the heavens and earth united to form a being to bear witness to their marriage. Carrying the red threads of fate, and the role of matchmaker, this being was the third sentient being under the heavens, born of the same generation as the father and mother of humanity. Respected as a god of relationships then, it would be centuries later that this being would finally gain a name – for this being who binds the threads of fate and determines every relationship with everything else, we now know him as the Heavenly Venerated Elder, or more commonly, the Elder Under the Moon.

Of course, more and more luminaries began to appear, phenomena taken form – a man takes a brush and paints to life all of creation; a judge devises a mirror to reflect the truth; a woman cultivates medicinal plants in a feverish attempt to grow the root of immortality, and a fool begins to tear down a mountain with his bare hands.

* * *

Civilisation flourished, and with it, the arts of cultivation too, allowed formerly weak humans to attempt to absorb the energies of the sky and earth to live forever. More ways began to emerge – more paths towards the ultimate aim of eternal life and power developed. Alchemy, medicine, botanical prowess, brushwork, metalwork...

Weaving and needlework somehow became associated with the colour red; the colour of life, happiness, and fortune – the domain of the Elder.

Under the full moon of reunion, seated beneath the Tree of Yearning, and presiding over the Hall of Pledges – the Heavenly Venerated Elder: took the surname of Hong like the colour of his threads; named himself Yuan to honour his birth as the embodiment of fateful coincidence; and, styled himself Yuexia, for the moon whose light illuminated his work. With the threads of fate he wove himself robes the crimson of blood, and channelled in them the power of inevitable fate, granting the wearer great strength and power.

Such was the power granted by this superb masterpiece, that the clothes of the Elder became renowned as the stitch-less Clothes of Heaven, Wufeng.

From the growing numbers of humans, Hong Yuexia took on followers, who pledged to follow his teachings as the Sect of Binding and Severing – the JieJue Sect. The top six followers of the now-Grandmaster became the personal disciples of Hong Yuexia, abandoning their roots to be take on new surnames. Yan, Xing, Zhu, Chi, Jiang, Fei – rebirthed as the Six Harmonious Families.

The Grandmaster was pleased, and wove and stitched for the six disciples the regalia of war. Threaded with masterful skill and empowered with the endless knots of fates bound by his hand, these Beautiful Adornments bestowed on the six personal disciples strength and power beyond compare.

When it came time to ascend, Hong Yuexia disrobed, and the Clothes of Heaven were hung upon a bamboo frame upon an altar – a cenotaph upon the surface of the mortal world. With the transcendental changes of the world, the symbolic tomb of Hong Yuexia disappeared within the blue seas turned into mulberry fields...1

* * *

**1  沧海桑田 – Chinese idiom referring to ‘the changes of the world’.**


	2. 第一卷 – 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the eighteenth year of the Changgeng era, and the current Emperor had three sons and their maternal clans tussling for the throne. Fate’s current laughingstock could thus only be the one who was being sought after to be bribed or to be killed
> 
> – the Royal Tailor, Yan Bi Yan Caixia.

#  第一卷 – Beautiful Adornments | 绮罗饰

## 1

 _How shall it be said that you have no clothes?_  
I will share my long robes with you.  
The king is raising his forces;  
I will prepare my lance and spear,  
and will be your comrade.  
1

Far to the north, upstream of the Tongtian River and towards the mountain steppes which were said to be the roof of the world, the north-west wind stirred. Thunder rolled across the plains as, in the distance, a horde of lightly armoured horseback-riders and their herds made a mad dash for the east.

With their backs to the sun, it was a while before a rider at their head, amidst jumping from his horse to another rider-less horse, made a shout. His words passed along this great organism, which then slowed itself before the ponderous army stopped at a great plain, surrounded by walls.

The gates swung open, and the front riders rode in.

Yurts, their woollen cloths dyed and woven with many-coloured threads, made extremely detailed surfaces. As the riders went deeper into the walled area, the town gave way to wooden cabins, and then to a walled palace built in the style of the Central Plains peoples – complete with citadel walls and a double-door gate studded with tin knobs.

The lead rider raised his hands from the reins of his horse, and spoke. From the watchtowers in the four corners, a soldier answered. The palace gates swung open him, to a courtyard dominated by an open stage, surrounded by trees save for the steps at its front and back.

Upon the stage, a figure was draped in clothes whose colours had washed out with time and the efforts of many a washerwoman. Draped as she was in long loops of multi-coloured eye-shaped beads, this figure seemed a lifeless idol compared to the vitality of this rider.

“Shaman,” the rider spoke first.

The old woman slurred: “Prince.”

“As agreed by time and tradition, I have come to ask for rain.”

“Agreed.”

The old woman shuffled some more, her feet moving with the surety of old age. Her body turned towards the heavens in a series of slow footsteps, the sacred rain dance performed in grand formality, yet with none of the celebration which accompanied the other tribes. The Ulaan people had had no need to make such a ruckus – not ever since the God in Red had bestowed a privilege upon them.

The rider, the prince, sighed in relief as rain began to patter on his face. Behind him, his coterie of fellow riders gave sighs of relief, lifting their hands up to the heavens to bow low towards the dancer on the stage.

“ _Red God, you_ _fulfil your promise_ _,_ ” the shaman sang, “ _So will we, the Ulaan, bear your name_.”

The clouds overhead gathered, thunder rumbled as the wind grew stronger until the shaman sighed and rested upon the ground. As if in harmony to the dance, the rain itself slowed to a patter, invigorating every and any of the farmers of the Ulaan attached to the shamanic tent as they exclaimed and bowed in deference.

“The rain will follow the clan herds for twenty days,” was the crone’s instructions as she straightened the wet woollen overcoat under her jewellery. “I suggest you leave before tonight.”

“Very good.”

The prince made no motion to leave. The crone did not move. The rain slowed to a stop.

The shaman broke their silence. “Wise Prince of the Left, Fulahun.”

“The Khan has an order for me, as I thought…” the prince smiled, but it faltered as the crone began to shuffle down the steps.

Whispers of panic arose, and the prince’s followers, guards and servants all, descended to the ground.

The crone stopped beside the prince. “Tell me... the Yang people. Tell me... which of the Beautiful Adornments has been dyed with our people’s blood.”

Upon the clothes-stand, an overcoat of ochre leather sewn with a lining of red silk fluttered from its wooden arms, draped over another set of woollen clothes inter-woven with red yarn in a scattered pattern. A quiver of red-stitched leather hung from a belt, and scarlet thread was stitched into where the leather armour joined up with its fittings. Hung from its stand was a composite bow of horn and wood, its bowstring of woven cord dyed red, as red as the day it had been bestowed centuries ago...

* * *

The eastern frontier of Great Yang was a mass of rivers and creeks amidst towering cliffs of green. The morning mists over the Tongtian River sparkled in the winter morning, that hour between night and day when everything was swathed in darkness. Floating on the Tongtian, a squadron of warships were floating towards a camp flying the gold banner of Great Yang. Each of the ships bore oars longer than three men were tall. Above each of them flew the standard of the Kingdom of Shu, and under that a Jiang (江).

Within the camp, activity bustled until the constant ring of a gong resounded.

“General! General Jiang!”

The general was always the most recognisable person – he was at the head of the flagship, and he was wearing the best armour around.

The General scowled, squinting at this messenger. “Who?”

“Xing! General Xing from Yang!” The soldier trembled. The entire clan of Xing were as bloody as their name, written for ‘blood red’ since every general produced from that clan tended to dye battlefields red.

“How many ships?” General Jiang mumbled.

“One line, General!”

“Xing Jiajue is coming here with only one line of ships?” General Jiang echoed.

“Yes, General.”

The general pondered. The empire of Great Yang truly stood up to its claim of being ‘bright as a multitude of stars’.2 He had heard that the Chidi Wise Prince had been defeated by the Yang months ago – it seems like those rumours were well-founded. Shu and Ling were the only remaining kingdoms in the way of Yang’s hegemony of this land under the heavens, and it seemed like General Xing Du, styled Jiajue, would be the blade for their current Emperor to do it.

“Their Military Advisor?” General Jiang asked.

“No sign of him, General!”

My lord, the heavens favour us! “Sink those ships!” came the immediate order.

“General! It’s...”

“What is it now?” Visions of presenting Xing Du’s severed head to the King of Shu were dancing in his mind as the general snapped back.

“General… it’s not the General! The standard, it says ‘Yan’! It’s their Military Advisor!”

“They’re letting a military advisor command a naval operation?!” General Jiang smacked himself in the face. “So it really does look like those two are wearing the same pair of trousers...”

The ships of Yang had already left their water camp, beginning to spread out in a loose circle around the fleet of Shu. The towering Shu flagship enough to take on three of the Yang ships by itself – this was not good odds for the Yang.

Jiang Su looked around, examining the line made by his fleet, before he did a double-take. “Where’s the left flank?!”

“Left flank...” the soldier who was asked quickly spun around to blink dumbly at the rippling waves and flotsam on the Tongtian. Soldiers aboard the Shu flagship turned around, clucking like lost chicken in a battery cage.

What floated up on the waves of the Tongtian was flotsam and jetsam, as far as the eye can see.

“General! Our keel is busted!!”

Jiang Su paled.

The keel of a ship was its absolute backbone, and a god keel determined the integrity of the ship’s hull. For this reason, it was usually also the thickest part of the ship. What had happened…?

Part of the gunwales were torn apart. Another flash of scarlet passed before his eyes, steadily tearing through most of the men on deck. Swords and spears were drawn, stabbing at the scarlet figure, but the blades were somehow deflected as if by heavy iron armour into each other. The figure in red stopped, landing on both his feet with a sigh. The scarlet and black robes he wore awash in blood, he made for a terrifying sight – some vengeful demon arisen from the Tongtian to make mincemeat of his men.

“AHHHHHHH!!!!” One soldier threw his spear, which hit the soft-looking robe and was immediately deflected into the wooden planks of the deck.

A sword cut vertically through the soldier. He fell down. Everything on deck became silent as the grave.

“It’s so noisy…” The monster yawned. “...there a market?”

Jiang Su looked back. “Xing Du. Leave your head here!”

The bloodstained man grinned, half his face matted with the spray of blood from his previous kill. “As down-payment, General Jiang, let me take your head!”

On the other side of the battlefield, another soldier was quaking in his straw shoes before the red and white profile of the Vermilion Sparrow Army’s military advisor.

This soldier was a scout running back and forth from the watchtowers by the riverbanks to the water camp to pass on information, and it had fallen to him to inform the second most powerful man in the army that their chief in command had just leapt into the Tongtian to tear into the Shu lines of battle. Said commander was playing with a loop of red string about his hands, tying it up into various configurations before undoing his own work – in other words, awaiting for news.

Finally, the scout asked: “Military Advisor, General Xing, he… went ahead… do we not need to send reinforcements?”

“Xing Du is idiot enough to jump in without assistance, do we need to be the idiots who follow him?” Military Advisor Yan Jiang of the Great Yang’s Vermilion Sparrow Army thinned his lips. “If the ship sinks, fish him up quickly. One fishy-smelling one in the water camp stinks enough.”3

“Er...” the scout stuttered. “Military Advisor! What about the rest?”

“Capture them alive. Prisoners of war can be ransomed back.”

The sounds of screams punctuated the air as soldiers in red tunics and trousers of hemp bodily tossed up floating soldiers from the waters of the Tongtian, up aboard the decks of the various ships. Beside Yan Jiang, the scout looked on in envy.

“Military Advisor, those uniforms… the General’s armour gives special powers, right?” the scout asked once more.

“...”

“...apologies for stepping out of line, Military Advisor.”

“As long as you mind your tongue, then.”

A head hit the floor, rolling away from the blood spatter with the force of its landing. The blood spatter was soon washed away by the man who had just entered the military advisor’s tent.

“You reek of fish,” Yan Jiang stated.

“Chaoxia,” the other rasped back, “why didn’t you come swim with me? We can float like mandarin ducks together.”

“Quit dreaming.” Yan Jiang rolled his eyes, but dropped his red thread to stand up and help the general out of the sodden red and black robe. “Dan Xian, get some ginger soup. Hot water to drink if no ginger is available.”

“Yes, Military Advisor!” The scout quickly ran into the cabin.

Yan Jiang tugged at the shell of Xing Du’s ear, causing the general to shout in pain.

“You idiot!” Yan Jiang hissed as he let go. “Do you know what will happen if it gets out that one of the six Beautiful Adornments is here?! The Six Harmonious Families are at war with each other!”

“Ow, ow, ow!” Xing Du wrested his ear back, rubbing it fiercely. “Chaoxia, please don’t tell my sister, she’ll lecture me to death...”

“As the Minister of Rites, Xing Lin Xing Jiaheng should lecture you for your irresponsibility,” Yan Jiang rebutted. “We’ve just sent the Chidi army away, only with the good fortune that the Chidi Khan seems to have fallen out with the Chi clan. Otherwise you think Siwei would make a difference?!”

“But Chaoxia, you brought your family-!”

“I’m a civil official without the strength to truss a chicken,” Yan Jiang glared back. “I actually need the protection of magical clothes, as you need someone to fix them.”

“…help me fix up Siwei later, Chaoxia,” Xing Du grinned back. “Sis will kill me if I brought Siwei home smelling like the Tongtian. That’s what your Yan clan is good at, right? Oh, right, your older brother is the Royal Tailor, and your little brother is better than you at needlework.”

“As the eldest legitimate son, there are other things to master,” Yan Jiang’s tone turned frosty. “I am here because Eldest Brother is... occupied.”

“You mean His Majesty couldn’t bear to send his tailor after me, and you were already my military advisor,” Xing Du snickered as Dan Xian re-entered the tent to leave a bowl of ginger tea and left.

“Old Dan!” the door-guard greeted. “Are you blind yet?”

Dan Xian shrugged. “You get used to it. When the wedding comes, though...”

“They could very well marry each other and take care of each other, but they need to continue their family lines.” The door guard sighed in agreement. “The Military Advisor couldn’t just make a baby in a bag... could there be anyone with worse luck than them? No wait, our Military Advisor’s big brother... Ah...” the door-guard froze.

“Old Han, I think you can stop gossiping now,” Dan Xian sighed. “Everyone knows that the military advisor’s older brother is just that unlucky.”

“Oh... walk slowly then...” Old Han the door guard blinked slowly as the soldiers went on their way.

Inside the tent, Yan Jiang scowled as a dagger was wrenched out of his hand. “Xing Jiajue, let go of my hand.”

Xing Du let go. “Don’t take it to heart, it’s the frontier... nothing much to do. Brother Caixia is just the latest topic. He really _is_ that unlucky. Being trusted right at this time... puts him in a hard position.”

It was an open secret that the Yan clan’s eldest young master Yan Bi, styled Caixia, was the most unfortunate young man. Born the Chancellor’s eldest but not from the legal wife? No chance to inherit over his younger brothers. Taking the position of Royal Tailor? Never mind the implications about women’s work, the nobles looked down on tradesmen.

Being the most trusted person to the Emperor beside the eunuch attendants?

It was the eighteenth year of the Changgeng era, and the current Emperor had three sons and their maternal clans tussling for the throne. Fate’s current laughingstock could thus only be the one who was being sought after to be bribed or to be killed – the Royal Tailor, Yan Bi Yan Caixia.

Yan Jiang pressed a letter into Xing Du’s hand. “We’re going to be the next unluckiest men then. Fulahun is coming back, and he has mustered a third of the Chidi armies. Time to work.”

* * *

**1 From the _Shijing_ , 無衣‘No Clothes’ first stanza, translation by James Legge. Original text:**

**岂曰无衣？与子同袍。王于兴师 , 修我戈矛, 与子同仇。**

**2  灿若繁星 – ‘bright as a multitude of stars’, refers to extremely capable talent.**

**3 For readers of Under the Moon who might remember: Xing Du’s surname is  腥, which in this case refers to ‘blood red’, but as a stand-alone character also means ‘fishy/stinky’.**


	3. 第一卷 - 2

Morning came, and the sun rose over the empire of Great Yang – so named for the rising sun. The east and west of the capital city began to thrum with the morning markets, and three hundred rings of a strong arm beating at the gongs resounded.

Far from the markets towards the city centre, the August Enceinte was a grid which held the estates of every official of the third rank and above, leading up to the imperial palace. Men and boys in yellow robes, cloaked with the signs of the moon and stars on their backs, ran with the sunrise through the roads and alleys of the imperial capital, Yemu. As each of them passed a house, one boy or man would either toss down a stack of folded papers tied with hemp twine, or politely hand over the pile to a waiting door-guard.

One of the largest estates which received these papers was the Manor of the Chancellor Yan. As a first-rank official, the papers received by their house were of course promptly delivered with great care to the master of the house at his breaking fast.

With great care, the most powerful non-royal in the empire opened the paper to scan through its handwritten contents.

“...Mmm,” said the Chancellor Yan, “They always delay the War news. Dan Tong.”

“Your servant is here.”

Pulling apart some of the papers, a separate stack was laid onto the table. “Caixia, where is he?”

“Eldest Young Master... is practising archery before he enters the Palace.”

“I never need to worry about Caixia... if only he could have entered the officialdom.” The Chancellor Yan looked to be in his thirtieth year or so, yet the temples of his hair had already greyed to give him a somewhat careworn look. “Give these to him later.”

“Yes.”

Despite the richness of the under-robe which he was wearing at the breakfast table, even a great official right now was a man enjoying some reading material with his meals.

“Oh...”

“Master?” Dan Tong asked again.

“It turns out that Old Wang’s third son’s concubine was out to eat him.”

“This... Master, sounds like... gossip?”

“The State Teacher personally killed the vixen. That man has his abilities.”

“His Majesty must not be pleased to know that War Vice-Minister Wang has had contact with the other side.”

“Respect ghosts and gods but stay away? Can’t be done.” The Chancellor briskly flipped over more pages in his gathering of papers. “Dan Tong, sometimes I think that the _Court Bulletin_ should consider printing on silk. How much is the cost of paper in Luoyang now? With silk you can just wash the pages, yes?”

“Master, Luoyang is Ling territory, and furthermore the Grand Princess Shuiyue is there.”

“Grand Princess?” Chancellor Yan snorted. “As sister of a mere king, Xuan Yue should have been styled a duchess1... ah, if only we did not lose the Battle of Tongtian River.”

In that battle, none of the Beautiful Adornments had been brought out. It did not seem to be needed – three years ago the Ling kingdom was on its last legs and its royal family the Xuan clan of Luoyang was already being reduced slowly. The Yang Emperor thus granted his third son Lí Chang the title of Royal Prince, with the fief of Yongchang and an army of fifty thousand soldiers to campaign against Ling; a definite victory, an excuse to shower a younger son with some rewards, none of the Yang officials had thought otherwise.

Who could have expected for Xuan Yue to go into battle with single spear and horse, and somehow rally the Ling troops up to push her younger brother safely onto the throne of Ling? Even if the Yang officialdom had advanced to allow women to take the civil service examinations, and there were female ministers in Court, Xuan Yue stood out as a definitely military woman who did not lose to men. She had written history, if only for a moment.

The Battle of Tongtian River ended in the Ling victory, stories of a figure clad in a war-robe as red as blood with the heads of the fallen tied to her girdle with their long hair2 spread, and the Rakshasa of Ling screaming about blood to dye her wedding dress were used to scare naughty children.3

For a time, the Chancellor had suspected that some demon king from the mountains had been invited to defend Ling. When the Princess herself had arrived, though, in her entourage was a familiar face which haunted the nightmares of these families who had left the JieJue Sect. They had received some answer about this heroic woman, Xuan Yue, now the Grand Princess Shuiyue of Ling.

“That little bint Hongniang, she has a proper position as Holy Maiden!” Chancellor Yan raged. “To take revenge on us, what does she do? She goes and helps a princess from another kingdom to fight us! Even the Chidi would not receive such preferential treatment, and they have an entire tribe in the JieJue Sect! Now Hongniang is supporting Xuan Yue, making Ling the only thing which stands between Great Yang and the dream of ruling the world!”

“Master,” Dan Tong urged, “You have become an official. The price paid to leave the world of rivers and lakes was paid in the blood of our clansmen. The Lady Hong4 is out for our lives, especially-”

“Shh!” The Chancellor paused, looking around. “The most talented tailor of this generation has already altered the Clothes of the Heavens. Tonight will be the first fitting. Once we have a wearer, there is no longer a reason to fear that demoness. Not even the JieJue Sect’s Holy Maiden can get through three of the Six Families by herself!”

“B- But, Master, Fengren is with the Second Young Master at the frontier, and Siwei had been taken by the General Xing...”

“The Titled Madam Fei has Chanjuan. The Imperial Guards will also be surrounding the palace. Not to mention...” The  _Court Bulletin_ in the Chancellor’s hands was held up. “From the beginning, the Yan, Xing and Fei clans ran to the Great Yang to hide because of the multiple sects which flourished. Yishan Pavilion has messengers who can ford a thousand _li_ in a single bound. Conglong Hall certifies half the wandering physicians under the heavens. Even Baiyi Manor has a reputation!”

The Chancellor Yan gave a laugh. “Yemu is a city teeming with cultivators, a monster like the JieJue Sect’s Holy Maiden could not come and go as easily as she pleases! After tonight, she will no longer have a chance to stop us!”

* * *

**1 Chinese has multiple variations of ‘princess’ –  公主，郡主，翁主 etc. The title used here is 长公主 or Grand Princess, which is usually used to refer to the sister of an emperor. This is a special exception because the Kingdom of Ling 灵国 still uses the style of King 王 for its ruler and thus technically Xuan Yue’s title should be some variant of 郡主.**

**2 Traditional Chinese culture forbids cutting hair – except for monks – so everyone has long hair. Men generally have a topknot, women have a plait or a bun. This story will attempt to introduce a variety of hairstyles.**

**3 Chinese wedding dresses are red.**

**4  红娘 – Hongniang, literally ‘Red Lady’, is also a Chinese word to refer to a (female) matchmaker, stemming from the character of the same name. Hongniang 红娘 is thus both a name, and a title and surname for Hongniang, whose actual name has yet to be revealed.**


	4. Scroll 1 Chapter 3

Please walk [here to Chapter 3 on my WordPress](https://bibliothequearmaria.wordpress.com/2018/05/28/red-scroll-1-chapter-3/). Chapter 3 will be up here a week later.

\- LLS


	5. Scroll 1 Chapter 4

Please walk [here to Chapter 4 on my WordPress](https://bibliothequearmaria.wordpress.com/2018/06/11/red-scroll-1-chapter-4/). Chapter 4 will be up here a week later.

\- LLS


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